


A Little Less Perfect

by Fluffyllama (Llama)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Fluffyllama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three parties, three broken resolutions. Oops?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Less Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pretty Lights 2008.

It's the first CW party of the year, and Jared's still away, the fucker, but Jensen doesn't care. There's free booze, always a couple of people to smoke with, and he's come armed with his list of New Year's resolutions.

_One_, no casual sex. Not that he does that a lot, but still. Relationships, man, that's what it's all about when you hit thirty. He's pretty sure.

_Two_, no getting drunk and passing out. The photos are getting truly embarrassing now, especially the whole face-painting incident.

_Three_, no drugs. He only smokes a little dope now and again, but fuck it, he needed a third resolution.

Jensen always makes three resolutions at New Year, and he always, always keeps them.

Always.

Except tonight there's Chad, with a too-heavy arm around his shoulders, slurring words into his ear about promising Jared he'd take care of Jensen, calling Jared his heterosexual boyfriend too loudly for comfort, and trying to melt Jensen's face off with his whisky breath.

With Chad, Jensen's usually annoyed, then he's _really_ annoyed, then he hits him, though he suspects Chad never remembers that part. Either that or he likes it, because it always goes the same way and Jensen doesn't know what it is, because he's not like that with anyone else.

Maybe it's the lack of Jared or just something in the smoggy LA air tonight, but tonight, it's different. Different because somewhere in the middle of the evening, Jensen finds himself bare-assed in a restroom cubicle with Chad's lips wrapped around his cock, panting "Yes," and "Fuck," and "Jesus," and Chad's eyes are shockingly blue in the harsh light, spots of perfect color against black tiles, white walls, and the bland neutral haze of his life.

There's nothing neutral about Chad, zero to fucking ninety in less time than it takes to blink, and Jensen's barely noticed he's stopped before Chad's belt jingles to the floor and his half-buttoned shirt is off, flying defiantly over the cubicle door. The turn of his hips, the angle of his back as he leans forward, the arms stretched high; they're an invitation Jensen doesn't need to think about, even if he should.

"Slut," Jensen breathes, with three fingers in Chad's ass. "You're such a little whore, waiting for me to fuck you." Chad's hips buck back with every slur, and his head rolls back for Jensen's fingers to tangle in his hair, grip his neck that's sweat-slick and shiny in the bright light. "Gonna fill you up, make you take my cock, and you're gonna love it, aren't you?" He twists his fingers deep, braces Chad with his legs while he finds a condom, and then he's there, one hand on Chad's bony hip, the other spreading him wide for Jensen's cock, and the only thing better than having that tight heat around his dick is the sound Chad makes when he breaches him over and over, choked and delirious and impossibly turned on.

"Fuck," Chad gasps out, when Jensen pauses to slap his ass, hard. The patch of red on pale skin where he hit him is fascinating, and the clench of Chad's buttocks around his dick when he comes _right then_ may be the best thing Jensen's ever felt, but mostly he does it because he knows Jared will ask.

Jensen has plenty of vices, but he doesn't like to lie.

* * *

Nobody asks if Jensen _fucked_ Chad, of course, and if anyone mentions resolutions he just says "You know me," and lets assumption do the rest. He's not ashamed of what he did. Much. It's just not his secret to tell, that's all. Yeah.

The Vancouver party is usually a quiet affair, or at least quieter than LA, but it's early this year and it seems _everyone_ turns out for it.

Everyone except Chad.

Not that Jensen's looking, but if Jared's searching around for his friend, the least he can do is help him, keep an eye out for scruffy blond heads in the vicinity, or the telltale sound of drunken shouting over the music.

"You sure he's coming?" Jensen shouts back over his shoulder eventually, but the chuckle he gets back against his ear isn't the one he expects.

"I hope so," Chad's voice says, and if Jensen goes outside when Chad guides him, his hands close around his hips, it's only because he wanted a breath of fresh air anyway.

"Been thinking about this," Chad says, his teeth grazing Jensen's neck, fingers fumbling with his belt until he can get his hands on Jensen's cock. Jensen's been hard since he felt Chad behind him, his fingers on his hips, because it means Chad wants to do this again. The alley is silent and dark, no streetlights on this side, just the moon streaking them silver among the shadows. "Thinking about fucking you."

His hands are cool when they turn Jensen around, tug his jeans down, stroke down his side. Jensen shivers, because it feels good, but he can't let Chad get the wrong idea here. "I can't—" he says, even though there are slick fingers at his hole already, Chad's dick wet and hard bobbing against his hip. "I don't—"

"You do now," Chad growls against his ear, and Jensen's body is a traitor because it feels good when Chad rubs against him, hard and hot, the blunt head of his dick just rubbing up and down, teasing over sensitive skin, pressing _in_ just enough to let Jensen imagine what it would be like. His hands press harder against the cold, damp wall of the alley, grazing his palms, straining his wrists. The roar of cars in the distance, the faint thump of music from the party, Chad's dirty voice in his ear; it all fills his head up until he can't think and he's pressing back, twisting until Chad's dick is lined up, pushing through the burn and stretch until he's full, hot skin warming him from behind, all the way through, and Chad's breath is clouding over his shoulder.

The rest of the party is a blur, and Chad's gone from Jared's couch by the time Jensen stumbles out of bed. Jensen can still smell him on his hands.

* * *

They're supposed to be working when the next CW party comes up, but it's almost the end of filming, there's a schedule fuck-up and they end up on nigh-on twenty hour days for a week. They get a four-day weekend to make up for it, and by Saturday morning Jensen's the one itching to get out of the house.

"It's New York, man," Jared says, staring like Jensen's been turned into a pod-person. "You hate New York, and the party will be full of those Gossip Girl posers."

"I just thought you'd want to," Jensen says irritably, and it's not his fault if the coffee jar lands too heavily on the counter, it was just less full than he thought. "It's no big deal."

He's still irritable by Tuesday, Wednesday's not much better, and Thursday he rolls the wrong way for an easy fall and pulls his shoulder. He gets through Friday with carefully-rationed painkillers, and by the time Jared's ordering Chinese and checking he can reach the remote he's having a pity party of the worst kind, guest list one.

Jared sounds confused when he answers the door and it's not the food, but it's nothing compared to Jensen when he hears the startled "Chad? Dude, what are you doing here?" from the hallway.

"Just passin' through," Chad says, and his shoulders are hunched when he slouches in, his eyes on nothing but Jensen. "Thought I'd stop and say hi."

"Hi." Jensen shuffles up to make room on the couch, and Jared's getting more puzzled by the minute watching Chad slide in gratefully next to him, leg pressed up tight against Jensen's. When Jared runs, muttering something about coffee, he sniffles a little and pointedly adjusts his bad shoulder. "Did you bring grapes?"

"Dude, I can do better than that." Chad pulls something out of his pocket, and no, no, no. Jensen only has one unbroken resolution left, he can't do this. "Doctor Chad brought medicine," he says, and reaches for the ashtray.

Jensen feels around in his pocket, brings out the pathetic scrap of paper with the tatters of his resolutions on it, and flattens it out on Chad's thigh.

"Resolutions are for bitches," Chad says firmly, but his eyes are soft. He lights up, takes a good drag, purses his lips up tight. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to be a little less perfect, Jen."

He's not the first one to ever say that, but Jensen isn't sure how to get across the monumental awfulness of breaking all three of his resolutions when the year is only a quarter gone.

"But if it helps..." Chad looks the list over again, smoothing it with his hand. "We can work on fixing that first one." His thigh is warm where it leans on Jensen's, but he doesn't look at him, so he doesn't see the surprise, or the smile.

Jensen takes the joint from his fingers. What the hell. There's always next year.


End file.
